


Sixty-Something Years and You Still Can't Talk About Your Problems

by Anonymous



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Love, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kinda?, Kinfic, Nightmares, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Not Beta Read, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Pseudo-Incest, Psychic Violence, Rape Aftermath, Sexual Abuse, but man bill is a fuckin bastard, i would say, no actual incest!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i aint abt that life, some implied fiddauthor but. yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 00:38:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14944352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Ford needs to get something off his chest.





	Sixty-Something Years and You Still Can't Talk About Your Problems

“No. It’s not you. You didn’t do anything.”

Half a lie.

“Ford, c’mon. I’m not as dumb as you think I am.”

Stan picks up the newspaper from on top of the TV.

“I don’t think you’re dumb.”

Stan laughs. It’s high. It’s forced. It’s somewhat hurt.

“I mean it, Stanley. I know you’re intelligent. You just learn differently.”

He tosses the paper onto the kitchen table. It bumps against a half-empty bag of Cheese Boodles.

“That’s what you always said.”

Ford picks up the bag and rolls it shut.

“That’s because you always have.”

“You’re changing the subject.”

He puts it back in the cabinet for Mabel to find it tomorrow.

“You steered me off topic.”

“Whatever happened, we’re getting back to what we were talking about before.”

The minute and hour hand move at the same time. Eleven at night.

“Why are you so skittish now?”

Ford stiffens. He opens another cabinet and pulls out a bag of jellybeans.

“Why are you so concerned?”

A hand slams down on the table.

“You’re my brother! I spent thirty years trying to get you back, and you won’t even fucking talk to me!”

“This isn’t the way to get me to do it.”

Stan’s hand relaxes. It slides off the polished wood and thumps softly against his thigh. He sighs.

“Sorry.”

Ford inspects a red jellybean closely. He consults the back of the bag. Cinnamon, he assumes.

“Please, Ford. Just tell me. What’s got you so jumpy lately?”

Ford looks up.

“You said please.”

“Mabel’s been too good of an influence on me.”

Ford can’t help but smile a bit. He pops the bean in his mouth.

“You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t stop me from doing it.”

He was wrong. It’s cherry.

“It was Bill.”

Stan pulls back a stool and sits at the table. He doesn’t say anything, but the look on his face tells Ford to continue.

Ford sighs. He pours a few more jelly beans into his hand.

“In the Fearamid. While he was trying to get the equation out of me.”

He sits down, adjacent to his twin. He lets the beans roll a bit on the tabletop. Stan takes this as an invitation and picks a few of the ones he knows he likes.

“The one that would let Wierdmageddon outside town, right?”

“Exactly that one.”

Ford licked his lips. He didn’t speak for a moment. He just poked and prodded the beans on the table, flicking Stan’s favourites toward him.

“He knocked me out a few times. Being a dream demon, naturally, he used this to his own advantage. Gave me horribly vivid nightmares.”

Stan accepted his brother’s offerings. He did the same in return. Ford liked bubblegum, right? Or maybe it was cotton candy? Grapefruit?

“You were in them, more often than not.”

Ford accepted them nonetheless.

“They were … distressing. To say the least.”

Stan did his best not to hurry his brother. It had been forever since Ford had told him when something was wrong.

“Bill used your face to do things nobody should have their brother do to them.”

It had been forever since he’d had the chance.

“Especially their twin.”

Ford sniffled once. It wasn’t a pathetic snivel, just him trying to keep his nose from running. He took a deep breath out.

“In a good portion of them, you were on top of me on all fours. I was on a bed, helpless to stop you. Him. Whatever it was.”

He poured some more jellybeans into the pile. It had gone stagnant, but he didn’t really care.

“I can’t get that hungry look out of my mind.”

His hands shook a bit. He pressed them hard into the table.

“I knew it wasn’t you. It wasn’t you, and that’s why I didn’t want to tell you. You wouldn’t do that. I know you. You’re my brother.”

He tried to ignore the tears as they hit the lenses of his glasses and rolled off onto his hands.

“You would never do that.”

His voice shook.

“I know you care for me. But it isn’t that sick, perverted love that no two family members should have.”

He sniffled again. Another sigh. His mouth was wet and tasted slightly of salt.

He opened his mouth to speak again.

He couldn’t.

Stan watched for a moment. He hesitantly reached out and took his brother’s hand. When Ford looked up, Stan met him with as reassuring of a smile as he could muster.

The same look he always gave Mabel.

Ford laughed.

“Silly, isn’t it? Me crying like this.” He pulled his hands away from Stanley’s, took his glasses off, and wiped them on the hem of the shirt he wore under his sweater. “I’m a grown man.” He put his glasses back on. “We’re nearly seventy by now, aren’t we? I think we are.” He leaned to look at the calendar. “Twenty-thirteen? Yes, we should have just turned si-”

“Ford.”

He stopped talking rather suddenly. He didn’t look at Stanley for a few seconds, but eventually turned to face him.

He still had that reassuring smile. It was a bit firmer now, but his eyes were soft and friendly.

The same look he always gave Dipper.

“It’s okay.”

Ford blinked.

“What?”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Ford. You got nothing to be sorry for.”

Ford sighed. He looked down at the table, resting his hands beside the pile of jelly beans.

“You can’t tell the kids.”

“I know.”

“And don’t tell anyone else about this, either.”

“Okay.”

“Not even Fiddleford. I’ll tell him on my own.”

“You got it.”

“And, Stanley?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for listening to me.”

“Don’t mention it. That’s what twins are for, right?”

Ford nodded.


End file.
